


An Artist's Ambitions

by RookieOneWrites



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Artists, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Dorothea Mischief, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Nature, Painting, Pining, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Secret Crush, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RookieOneWrites/pseuds/RookieOneWrites
Summary: Dorothea goes for a walk around Garreg Mach and happens upon Ignatz in the throes of artistic inspiration.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Leonie Pinelli, Leonie Pinelli & Ignatz Victor, Leonie Pinelli/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cym0rg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cym0rg/gifts).



> The Leonatz Propaganda Machine Cym0rg inspired me to write a fic! Go follow them on Twitter, they've got the good stuff!

The morning sun washed over Dorothea’s skin and she exhaled in relief at the touch of the cool morning air. Garreg Mach practically glowed in the white light from the clear sky above and Dorothea loved taking in the scenery at this early hour. Without the other students bustling about, she could appreciate the artistry that went into every aspect of the monastery’s appearance. She observed where the groundskeepers had planted flowers and shrubberies that concealed the cracks in the walls. Dorothea imaginined the castle as an aging diva who still possessed all of her power and poise, but needed a bit more makeup than in her younger days before she presented herself to the audience. 

The expression on Dorothea’s face turned downwards as she realized that Edelgard would have a different interpretation. The leader of the Black Eagles would see only an ancient structure, crumbling under its own weight and covering up its deficiencies with meaningless gestures. A structure that could collapse at any moment and crush those within its walls. Dorothea let out a mirthless chuckle at how easily she could inhabit Edelgard’s dour perspective, even at this early hour of the morning.

As Dorothea walked past the cracked door of a seemingly unoccupied classroom, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. The classroom did, in fact, contain a single student. Ignatz sat with his back to the door, hunched over a piece of paper, and scribbling away furiously with his quill. At first, Dorothea thought nothing of it. Ignatz always played the dutiful student and he no doubt took advantage of the early morning hours to get in some more study time with the library’s hotly-contested books. But before Dorothea stepped away, she realized something. Ignatz didn’t have a single book in front of him. In fact, the only thing on the table besides the paper occupying Ignatz was a stack of similar pages to his left. Had he written all through the night?

Dorothea’s sheer curiosity possessed her. She quietly opened the door wider and went into the classroom. Making as little noise as possible, she stepped her way over to Ignatz until she stood directly above the young man’s shoulder. She peered over and glanced at his work. Rather than writing some great text, Ignatz had seemingly spent the entire night drawing. Disappointingly, it looked like Ignatz had scarcely begun this latest image. She could tell that a person occupied the majority of the page, but only the outline of the subject appeared finished and the artwork possessed no defining features yet. With the need for stealth gone, Dorothea spoke. 

“Good morning Ignatz. What are you drawing?”

Ignatz whipped his head around from its position at a speed that made Dorothea worry about the health of his neck. He wore an expression of complete and utter terror at the older girl’s presence and his complexion went whiter than Edelgard’s hair. Dorothea could even see beads of sweat forming at the temples of poor Ignatz’s head. 

“Oh! Miss Dorothea! Nothing! Nothing at all! In fact, I was just-- leaving! For class!”

Dorothea arched an eyebrow at his stammered response and obvious lie. While always shy, this level of evasive behaviour seemed uncharacteristic for Ignatz. At that moment, his skittishness reminded her more of Bernadetta.

“Well, at least let me help you carry all of those. It looks like you’ve done quite a number of sketches this morning!”

Dorothea reached a hand towards Ignatz’s downturned stack of pages so that she might examine a finished drawing. With a speed that Dorothea thought impossible from the young knight-in-training, Ignatz scooped the papers up and cradled them to his chest. Even more impressive, not a single one came loose or fell to the floor. Ignatz gripped the papers as if his very life depended on their safety. Before Dorothea could speak another word, Ignatz bolted upright and began hurrying towards the door of the classroom.

“I’ve got it! Thank you though, thank you-- Woah!”

Ignatz’s own haste undid his efforts at a speedy escape. The young man tripped over his own feet and went down hard. His arms instinctively went out and the pages went flying all across the floor. Dorothea held back a laugh at the sheer totality of the young man’s clumsiness. As Ignatz began slowly pushing himself up off the ground, Dorothea knelt down and picked up one of the pages. 

Dorothea didn’t know what she expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t a well-realized sketch of a fully nude woman emerging from a pond. The songstress picked up another and beheld the same naked figure leaping forward towards the viewer, arms outstretched as if prepared to grapple and wearing a wickedly beautiful smile. Every page Dorothea picked up had the same woman drawn on them in various states of undress, though none of them were what Dorothea would deem “crude.”

“My my, you have been productive Iggy. And I can see why! Such lovely studies of such a beautiful muse!”

“Oh no, Miss Dorothea, please don’t look!”

“Why not? These sketches are very tasteful, Iggy. You’ve done an excellent job with the grace of the body and-- Oh. Oh my. These aren’t just studies, are they?”

Dorothea mentally scolded herself for not noticing it earlier. Ignatz hadn’t drawn one of the goddesses or some random imagined woman as the subject of his fantasies. He drew each of the women with the same characteristics: the short hair, the toned muscles, the perky breasts, and the wildfire eyes. This woman wasn’t a concoction of Ignatz’s hormones. 

It was Leonie. 

“Are these… They’re _all_ of Leonie?”

“Yes. She’s… Yes.”

The tone in Ignatz’s voice told Dorothea that no one else knew of Ignatz’s feelings. He spoke the “yes” in that halting way all those with a secret love do when first admitting it: sheer terror, borne from the knowledge that by admitting his feelings, the young man just now made them real within his own mind. Whatever lies and excuses he told himself about how he felt could no longer survive. Dorothea smiled at the sheer purity of his confession. 

“Now now, Iggy. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Have you told her how you feel?”

Ignatz continued gathering his scattered images. His face remained a bright shade of red and his eyes never looked up at Dorothea as he spoke.

“No. I-- I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense! Iggy, take it from someone who knows: feelings left unsaid are feelings wasted. If a relationship doesn’t begin in honesty, it can never truly grow.”

The young man suddenly ceased his work and stared straight back at the still-kneeling Dorothea. Such determination burned within his eyes, such focus, such love. Despite her greater experience, Dorothea found herself mesmerized by Ignatz's passion. 

“But I don’t want her to think I’m only interested because of her beauty! She’s more than that! She’s strong, and determined, and she’s always so direct in what she wants and who she is. I admire all of that!”

A gentle smile reasserted itself across Dorothea’s face. She knew Ignatz’s pain. He loved someone with a more developed sense of self than he possessed and he knew it. 

“Oh Iggy. First off, as long as you say it respectfully and at the proper time, I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t like being told that they’re attractive. I believe Leonie would be especially flattered, since most of the young men at Garrag Mach can’t see past her... Strong features.”

The spark of hope in Dorothea’s words filled the young man. She could imagine his fervor as the centerpiece of an opera. “The Tale of the Painter in Love with the Mercenary.” Dorothea kept the fiction to herself and continued her advice. 

“Secondly, I think you should simply tell her what you admire about her. If you tell her exactly what you told me just now, I think your confession might turn out much better than you think!”

Ignatz gathered up the last of the scattered papers and clutched them to his chest again. He looked back at Dorothea with a bit more confidence and slightly less crimson in his face. 

“I-- I appreciate your kindness, Miss Dorothea. Still, I think I might wait a bit before telling her all of this. Just being around her makes me nervous. I don’t want to say anything to her... Yet.”

Another smile came back to Dorothea as she slipped the last paper she previously examined into his stack. At this distance, she could smell all the paints and inks that wafted around Ignatz’s slight frame. Despite the bizarre concoction, it didn’t seem unpleasant to her. Like Ignatz himself, only a small number of people would find it charming. But those who grew used to it would forever associate those inks and acrylics with the green-haired young man. 

“Well, tell her sooner rather than later, Iggy. Time is the one thing that nobody ever gets more of, be they noble, commoner, or merchant’s son.”

Ignatz nodded vigorously, as if the frequency with which his head bobbed could indicate to Dorothea how much he agreed with her. She brushed off his shoulders and straightened his glasses from their crooked position on his face. 

“Thank you Miss Dorothea!”

Before she could say anything, Ignatz darted off again towards the door. He made it almost all the way through the threshold before turning around to say one more thing.

“If you could keep the sketches a secret, I’d be very grateful!”

“Of course! I won’t tell a soul.” 

With this assurance, Ignatz bolted off around the corner and back towards his room at Garreg Mach. As his footsteps fell away in the distance, Dorothea took off her hat. She gave a look at the sketch she previously crumpled up and stuffed there while Ignatz scrambled about the room collecting his night’s work. Dorothea allowed herself a thin smile as she beheld a drawing of Leonie hunting in the nude. 

A gentle huff of amusement escaped the songstress as she studied the drawing. She would keep her promise to Ignatz. She would certainly not tell Leonie or anyone else about Ignatz’s self-indulgent habit or his romantic feelings. But if one of his drawings went missing at _just_ the right time and in _just_ the right location… Then who knew what might happen? 

Certainly not Dorothea. But she could hardly wait to find out.


	2. Stiff Opposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonie and Dorothea spar in the training grounds. Through a poor bit of stealth, Dorothea puts Leonie on the trail of an unknown artist.

Leonie sprang back and dodged another of Dorothea’s sword strikes. The songstress’ agility always marvelled Leonie when they dueled and staying outside the reach of Dorothea’s wooden sword took all of her focus. As Leonie regained her balance, she brought her own practice sword back to its position in front of her body, hoping that she could deflect Dorothea’s next strike rather than avoid it. 

But instead of attacking again, Dorothea took a few steps around the empty training ground and stalked towards Leonie’s side. The redhead corrected her own position in response, keeping Dorothea in front of her just as Jeralt taught her. 

“I’m a little hurt, Leonie. You haven’t said a word since we started. I was hoping we could use this as a chance to catch up a little.”

“Sorry for taking this seriously. When you fight for real, you usually don’t do a lot of talking.”

“Oh Leonie, you’re so uptight! If I wanted a stiff opponent, I would have asked Felix for a round...”

Leonie felt her temper flare. The comparison to Felix stung. But more than that, Leonie took offense to Dorothea’s continued flippancy towards their bout. Doubt crept into Leonie’s mind and she found herself suddenly enraged at the possibility of Dorothea holding back against her. 

“‘Stiff,’ huh? I’ll show you stiff!”

Leonie lunged forwards towards Dorothea with an impressive two-handed thrust. She hoped that she might score a stabbing hit just above her opponent’s waistline, but Dorothea easily sidestepped the sudden strike and countered with a gentle rap of her sword on Leonie’s vulnerable back. Dorothea’s laughter echoed around the training ground as Leonie turned around towards her. 

“You’re too easy, Leonie! You get upset anytime someone calls you a name!” 

A glob of spit flew out of Leonie’s mouth towards the ground out of sheer frustration. This time, she didn’t return the sword to a defensive posture and instead held it downwards with one hand. She loosened her grip on the practice sword, a shift that Leonie hoped Dorothea wouldn’t notice. 

“Jeralt taught me that a mercenary’s reputation is everything. If someone drags your name through the mud, you’ll never get hired. ‘Have an answer for everything they say about you.’” 

Dorothea arched one of her immaculately-maintained eyebrows at Leonie’s quotation. Then the songstress gave one of her trademark pencil-thin, wicked smirks that she usually reserved for when she taunted nobles. Leonie braced herself.

“Is that so? Then how would you answer if I said you were a wildly overconfident yet mediocre duelist?"

Leonie sprung forward like lightning unleashed. She wielded the wooden blade with only one hand as she rushed towards Dorothea, masking her intended strike beneath a veneer of rage. Dorothea swung her sword in a graceful downward arc as Leonie neared. The redhead blocked the overhead strike with her own blade and for one half of a second, the sound of wood cracking against wood filled the training grounds. As Dorothea began withdrawing her arm for another attack, Leonie quickly dropped her own blade into the sand and tackled Dorothea. Impressively, her dainty classmate retained a hold on her practice blade as the two of them fell together. But with a smack of her hand against Dorothea’s wrist, Leonie freed the blade from Dorothea’s grip and swiftly drove it into the sand next to the brunette’s luscious locks of hair.

“My answer is this: I know you’re a singer Dorothea. But stop projecting so damn much.” 

The two of them both took in heaving breaths as they recovered. Leonie lay half-slumped over Dorothea. While not an embrace by any means, Leonie never before examined Dorothea in such close proximity. She never realized how nice the songstress smelled, almost like cinnamon. Leonie could see Dorothea’s eyes on her in turn and an uncharacteristic spike of self-consciousness rushed through her. A few silent moments passed between them before Dorothea spoke.

“Well played, Leonie. I concede the bout.” 

Leonie simply nodded in response. She mustered up enough strength for a friendly smile, but still didn’t shift herself off of her beaten opponent. Dorothea stretched herself out like a cat in the space where Leonie didn’t have her pinned and then brought her face slightly closer to her victorious opponent. 

“You know, I haven’t come up with a cute nickname for you yet. Ferdie, Hubie, Bernie… My usual technique doesn’t work with your name, does it?” 

A facetious expression of hurt crossed Leonie’s face and she teased Dorothea. 

“You think my name isn’t cute?”

Dorothea let out her singsong laugh and finally pushed Leonie’s weight off of herself. The songstress stood up and brushed sand off of her practice uniform. Then she shook her hair and the last of the grains came loose from her curls. 

“Let me get your things.” 

Leonie rolled over onto her side and watched Dorothea stride over to where Leonie’s dirty and patched bag lay sitting next to one of the columns around the training grounds. That unexpected element of self-consciousness returned to Leonie as she noted the contrast between Dorothea’s appearance and the well-used accessory that Leonie took such pride in maintaining. For the first time, the mercenary’s apprentice found herself wanting a new bag, one that she could wear with pride around anyone in the monastery. Around Dorothea. The songstress returned with Leonie’s possession and gently tossed it onto the redhead’s chest, finally shaking Leonie out of her reverie.

Leonie stood up and opened the bag, searching for something within that might make her appearance less savage beneath Dorothea’s piercing gaze. Instead, she found something that didn’t belong to her at all.

“A paper?”

Leonie withdrew the folded page from within and then slung her bag over one shoulder. The fold of the paper seemed exact and elegant, yet it bore the signs of a distinct crumpling at some stage of its existence. Had she simply placed a note to herself in her bag and then forgotten about it? Dorothea made an excited noise as Leonie examined the stowaway parchment.

“Ooh! Perhaps it’s a confession of love from one of our classmates!”

Leonie shot Dorothea a drool look of disbelief. 

“Not likely. You know Sylvain doesn’t even acknowledge I’m a girl?” 

Dorothea’s excited expression instantly changed to a serious and disapproving frown.

“Sylvain is a scoundrel.” 

The sheer venom with which Dorothea spat the name told Leonie everything. She tried melting Dorothea’s sudden seriousness with a shrug.

“Aren’t most men?”

“We must keep our hopes alive, Leonie.”

“Thanks, really. But I think I’ll leave the boys of Garrag Mach to you.”

This comment clearly delighted Dorothea and she took a step closer to Leonie, leading with her head in a deliberately intrusive manner. When she spoke next, the words came from between Dorothea’s lips as little more than a whisper. 

“Well, if you’re not having any luck with the boys, you could always try the girls…”

Leonie quickly turned her attention back to the crumpled paper as a means of hiding her blushing face. Doubt crept into Leonie’s mind as she carefully unfurled the page. Did Dorothea just enjoy teasing her? What did she want? Leonie always believed the opera star’s hunt for a husband came across as genuine, but now she didn’t know what to think. Did Dorothea see some sort of kindred spirit in Leonie? Off the top of her head, Leonie couldn’t even name three things they both enjoyed. Dorothea liked singing, gossiping, fashion, and high society. Leonie liked weapons, fighting, training, brawling, and… 

Hunting. But not in the nude. The piece of paper stuck in her bag displayed an artistic rendition of her stalking some prey through the undergrowth with nothing on her body but her quiver and boots. 

“Oh my! Now that’s a confession if I ever saw one!” 

“It’s not signed.” 

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Leonie looked over the drawing for a few more heartbeats. Someone with real talent made this. Dorothea seemed an unlikely culprit. Leonie’s classmate possessed immense artistic skill, but as a singer rather than a portraitist. Plus, the facial details and accuracy of Leonie’s proportions told her that whoever drew it spent more time around her than any member of the Black Eagles. 

“Never could stand a coward. If someone is going to stuff nude drawings of me in my bag, they should at least sign their work.”

“Perhaps they want to appear mysterious. Who doesn’t like a good chase?”

“You should only chase what you can catch, Dorothea.” 

Making a show of her delight at the situation, Dorothea placed one hand on her breast and raised another into the sky as an imitation of countless times that she stood center stage. Leonie realized that theatricality would forever color Dorothea, no matter how far she travelled from her past in the Mittlefrank Opera Company. 

“Well, I for one am absolutely enthralled! Who could your mysterious artistic suitor be, I wonder?”

“You’re a great singer, Dorothea. But you’re a lousy actress.”

Another sincere laugh erupted from Dorothea and filled the space. Leonie didn’t know anyone else at Garrag Mach who took such joy in getting called out for their behaviour. Yet Dorothea clearly, truly enjoyed the fact that Leonie would tolerate no lie or exaggeration between them. 

“You’ve seen right through me, Leonie! But I swore to your admirer that I wouldn’t tell!”

Leonie gave a warm and understanding smile as she moved past Dorothea towards the doors of the training grounds. 

“Suppose I’m going hunting then.” 

Dorothea called after Leonie as she made her way out and back onto the grounds of Garrag Mach. 

“Try and have fun with it, Leonie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this remains a Leonatz fic, I just think Dorothea and Leonie deserve all the good things in the world... And those good things include each other. Hopefully, this chapter came across as tasteful rather than exploitative. I feel like Dorothea's attraction to Leonie would emerge from the fact that Leonie doesn't fear her at all and basically always tells the truth, as opposed to the noble boys Dorothea usually pursues. I debated on who Dorothea should reference as a "stiff opponent," since that clearly implies certain things. My soul remains that of a dedicated miltishipper. At one point, Leonie's religion came up as a discussion topic but I decided that would work better for later chapters. Please let me know your thoughts below!


	3. Hunting Small Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain dabbles in art and artist criticism. Ignatz shows a glimmer of the man he will become during the war. And Leonie goes hunting for rabbits.

Sylvain liked art. This surprised most people since most people assumed Sylvain only liked girls. Sylvain actually liked plenty of other things. He liked dancing. He liked teasing his classmates. And he liked watching artists while they painted. Still, he could only watch Bernadetta paint if she didn’t notice him observing her. Ignatz’s art didn’t appeal to Sylvain’s taste as much, but the Golden Deer’s resident artist didn’t possess the paralyzing anxiety Bernadetta did and thus would let Sylvain accompany him when he ventured beyond the walls of Garreg Mach. In exchange, Sylvain would provide his honest feedback when asked, though sometimes the two of them would instead talk about crests or the nature of the Goddess. Sylvain didn’t know if he would call it a friendship, but he appreciated Ignatz’s hospitality. 

Still, something seemed different about Ignatz this time. Sylvain saw how much more confidence the younger man put into his brush strokes. Ignatz usually took long periods between his paintings and that caused him to constantly lose confidence in his art. Yet now his brush worked furiously and without losing any of the technical detail of the woods surrounding the monastery. Sylvain slid his back further down the oak he sat in front of and let his slouch relax his body. 

“Your brush work has gotten more confident.”

His words clearly startled Ignatz, but the young man did nothing more than flinch. Ignatz still remained seated on his stool in front of his easel. He didn’t even turn as he responded.

“Thank-- Thank you, Sylvain. If I may ask, how can you tell?”

“You don’t look up from the canvas as much. You trust yourself to remember the details of the scene. Frankly, you’re spending more time painting and less time  _ fidgeting  _ about painting.”

Even from his angle behind Ignatz, Sylvain could see a grateful smile tugging at the corners of the painter’s face. Sylvain let the moment exist for a few seconds before asking a question that he knew would further disrupt Ignatz.

“Something must have changed with you. What’s new?”

Now Ignatz did more than flinch. The palette in his hand nearly fell from his grasp before Ignatz quickly righted himself. He turned slightly more towards Sylvain, but still mostly faced towards his still in-progress painting. 

“No-- Nothing! Nothing at all! I guess I’ve... just gotten more practice lately!” 

Sylvain made a noise that indicated he didn’t believe Ignatz. When Ignatz didn’t respond, Sylvain tried another question.

“Is it a girl?”

“Ah… um. No.”

A reptilian smile came to life across Sylvain’s face. 

“Ignatz, please believe me when I tell you that you are the absolute worst liar I have ever heard in my life.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance!”

Ignatz signed. He carefully put down his tools and turned around towards where Sylvain still lounged against the tree. 

“Fine. Yes, there is a girl. But I’m not currently willing to discuss her with you.” 

“Not currently? Have you been ‘making art’ with her in your spare time, Ignatz?”

The younger man’s expression suddenly darkened. Sylvain couldn’t think of the last time he saw Ignatz genuinely angered like this. The artist always seemed too timid to ever actually risk a full argument with anyone. 

“That’s enough, Sylvain.” 

Despite the conclusive nature of Ignatz’s words, Sylvain saw his opening. 

“Oh, listen to the bass in your voice. You must really like her! Who’s the lucky lady? Marianne?”

“No.” 

“Dorothea? She seems awfully happy to see you these days…”

“ _ No _ .”

“Well, duh. I was just kidding. I know how Dorothea spends her time.”

Ignatz’s frown transformed into a wicked smirk. Sylvain didn’t know exactly how he felt about little Ignatz smirking at him, but he knew he didn’t like it. 

“Sounds like disappointment in your voice, Sylvain.”

“Hey, who said you could turn this back on me? This is about your love life, not mine!”

“So not Dorothea, not Marianne… Who does that leave…”

A sudden realization struck Sylvain. He felt his brain light up with the realization and he silently cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. It made perfect sense, in a strange sort of way.

“No. No! You’re kidding.” 

“I didn’t say anything.”

Ignatz didn’t have to. Sylvain could feel the sheer obviousness of the thing in his bones. He sat up a little straighter and leaned conspiratorially towards the still-seated Ignatz.

“Leonie? Miss ‘Jeralt’s best apprentice’ herself?”

Ignatz recoiled as Sylvain inched closer. He seemed equally repulsed at Sylvain’s mocking tone when mentioning Leonie’s name.

“She’s more than that, you know.” 

“Oh sure, sure. She’s feisty alright. Can’t figure out why you’d want to deal with that though! Definitely not  _ my  _ type.” 

Ignatz’s expression shifted from repulsed to angered. The dark cloud over the artist’s face returned and Sylvain realized his mistake just before Ignatz dealt him a crippling response. 

“Why, because Leonie wouldn’t listen to you whine about your crest for hours on end?” 

Sylvain felt a sudden flush of anger. Ignatz almost never said a cross word to anyone and his sudden response exposed a raw emotional nerve in Sylvain. The redhead spat back with something he hoped would hurt young Ignatz. 

“You know you wouldn’t be her first, right? She’s not like the pure and virginal Goddess you adore so much, Ignatz.”

Rather than matching Sylvain’s anger, Ignatz’s expression softened into something that looked like sympathy. 

“I think it’s sad that you believe things like that matter to me. And that they clearly matter to you, Sylvain.”

Ignatz’s honesty only made Sylvain angrier. He burst up from his seated position, hoping that he might startle the young artist or make him flinch. Ignatz didn’t move from his seat on the stool. Sylvain felt his temper reach a crescendo and he jabbed a finger towards Ignatz’s face. 

“Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me when your new crush breaks you in two.”

Sylvain backed away and turned towards the direction of the monastery. As he did so, he bumped into something and nearly toppled back down into the grass. His balance thrown off by the unexpected collision, he easily fell down when a hard shove pushed against his chest. 

“Funny, I was thinking about doing that to you, Sylvain.”

Leonie towered above Sylvain now. The sunlight from above bathed her in a fierce glow that nearly turned her hair from light red to gold in Sylvain’s eyes. She wore her school uniform but with a quiver of arrows on her back and a powerful hunting bow in her right hand. Her patched and worn bag seemed heavy with the results of a successful hunt. For a brief moment, Sylvain could somewhat see what Ignatz liked about Leonie. Then Leonie drew an arrow and fired it expertly into the ground between Sylvain’s legs. He let out a scream.

“AH! What-- What if you had missed?”

Leonie’s smirk at those words could have killed a man.

“Who says I didn’t?”

A gulp slithered down Sylvain’s throat and he felt a cold sweat break out across his body.

“Ordinarily, I would just step on your chest until you said ‘uncle,’ but the word around the monastery is that you’re into that sort of thing.”

Embarrassment flared in Sylvain’s cheeks, made worse by the sound of Ignatz’s snickering. Sylvain looked away from Leonie and towards the arrow between his legs before speaking again. 

“Dorothea always sings, I guess.”

“Guess so. Now, you’re going to get up and start walking towards the monastery. And if you bully Ignatz again, I’ll take another shot at your ‘family crest.’ And next time, I won’t miss.” 

Sylvain did as she instructed and started towards the gates of Garreg Mach. He could feel Leonie’s eyes on him until the trees finally broke her line of sight. He swore under his breath at both Dorothea and Leonie. Of course Dorothea would start spreading his secrets around to the other students. But the fact that Leonie defended Ignatz with such force bothered him more than anything else, for some reason. Sylvain stewed over the interaction as the sun began setting over the monastery ahead of him.

What did she see in that wimp? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I struggled with this chapter. I think my Sylvain Distain is in full effect here. I always thought Dorothea had his number pretty quick in all respects. Tried showing the ruthless assassin/damage dealer that Ignatz becomes in the second stage of the game through his words. Hopefully it came across. Let me know your thoughts!


	4. Overly Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonie confronts Ignatz about his artwork of her.

Leonie stepped over to where Ignatz still sat on his stool, facing her and not the half-completed painting behind him. The woods outside Garreg Mach had a nasty habit of swallowing sound, but she could still hear Sylvain retreating towards the monastery and that set her more at ease. In stark contrast, Ignatz seemed more tense with every footstep Leonie took towards him. The young man set aside his paint palette on the ground and placed his hands on his knees. Leonie took the sketch he made of her out of her right pocket and unfolded it in his direction. She let the image hang there between them for a long moment before speaking.

“I take it you’ve made more than one of these of me?”

Her mildly accusatory tone made Ignatz shrink back and nearly bump into his easel. He gulped loudly and stammered out an answer.

“Y-- Yes.”

A sigh escaped Leonie’s lips as she folded the sketch up again and replaced it in her pocket. A second later, she holstered her bow over her shoulder so that she could cross her arms. 

“Well, I can’t say I expected that.” 

Ignatz reacted as if struck. He threw up his arms in a defensive motion and turned his head away from Leonie.

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it anymore!”

Leonie could think of few more unattractive activities than groveling and making Ignatz squirm brought her no satisfaction. Plus, his continued panicking would slow down Leonie’s intended line of inquiry. Taking a step forward and uncrossing her arms, she gently took hold of his wrists and knelt down. She brought his hands down towards hers and stared back into his eyes. At this proximity, Ignatz’s features seemed less rounded and more masculine. The glasses threw everyone off, Leonie realized. Underneath the silly haircut and the massive spectacles lay a maturing young man. Not square-jawed and chiseled, certainly. But not a child either. 

“I didn’t ask you to stop though, Ignatz.”

No words came out of Ignatz’s mouth, but his jaw did open in response to Leonie’s words. He seemed completely overwhelmed by the young redhead woman. Leonie smiled, hoping that it would set him more at ease. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. Ignatz turned a shade of red and his eyes widened in surprise. 

“Tell me something. Why me? Why not Hilda? Or Dorothea?”

Leonie used her gentlest voice and this apparently gave Ignatz a measure of peace. He returned Leonie’s smile. Regaining his speech, Ignatz cleared his throat and spoke to Leonie with more confidence than she ever heard from him before this moment. 

“To tell you the truth, I just don’t see them in the same way I see you. You’re always so honest about what you want. You never lose confidence in yourself or others. Whereas I can almost never say what I want out loud. It’s amazing to me. You’re amazing.”

Now shock played across Leonie’s face and she felt her own temperature rising to a blush. Ignatz complimented her confidence, but it appeared he possessed a great reserve of his own once you cut through the evasions. Had he practiced the words of his confession? Whether spontaneous or rehearsed, Leonie dared not interrupt the young man now. 

“When I see you on the battlefield or in the classroom or just walking around Garreg Mach, I see a driven, intelligent, and beautiful woman. And one day, I just couldn’t focus on anything else. I made the drawings because… Because I thought it was the only way I could get you out of my head.” 

Leonie could hardly process what the young man said. Could these words really come from Ignatz? Shy, quiet Ignatz sat here and told her that she monopolized his thoughts. He told her that she amazed him. That he found her beautiful and intelligent. Leonie knew flattery when she heard it and this didn’t fit. These words came from sheer sincerity and they took her breath away. 

She decided to take some from Ignatz until hers returned. She pressed her face towards him and closed the remaining distance between their lips. Her hands shifted from holding his wrists to holding his shoulders still as she kissed him. To her surprise, the young man did not disappoint. His kisses came in a more measured pace than Leonie’s. They came targeted and slow, as if considering the composition of their lips together. Leonie’s own kisses came wild and fierce. She kissed him as if he would be the last man she ever kissed in this life. 

They stayed like that for minutes until Leonie’s knees got tired from kneeling to meet him at his seated position. She broke away from him slowly and sat herself onto the grass in front of him. Ignatz’s glasses sat crooked on his nose and his eyes practically popped out of his sockets. He looked like a man struck by a bolt from a Levin Sword. 

Leonie admired the effect her kisses had on the young man for a long while, not saying anything. Eventually, the spell over Ignatz broke and he readjusted his glasses. Leonie couldn’t help but laugh. Ignatz’s face broke into a bashful smile at the sound of it.

“You smell nice.” Leonie said. She meant it. Ignatz smelled like a whole host of things all mixed together. Inks, paints, and pine needles stuck out the   
most to her senses. Most of the other boys at Garreg Mach either smelled like a barn or an entire bottle of perfume. Both, in Ferdinand’s case.

“You smell… Well, you smell like you,’ Ignatz offered. ‘And that’s nice in its own way!” 

Leonie laughed again, this time toppling over into the grass. The sack of rabbits on her back nearly fell off her shoulders and she suddenly felt mortified. She just made out with Ignatz with the stink of a bunch of freshly-gathered rabbits clinging to her clothes. Her laughter stopped and she threw her head back in an anguished roar of embarrassment. Ignatz apparently found this funny and commenced laughing himself. Leonie shot back up and gave him a half-serious chiding. 

“Don’t you laugh at me! I just completely rocked your world!”

“I’ll say. I won’t forget the smell of those rabbits for a long time!” 

“Oh, you are the worst. Just the worst.” 

Ignatz laughed more, but this time Leonie joined him. Somehow, this whole encounter made her feel giddy. It felt unreal, but in a good way. She tried thinking back. When had she ever felt this happy since she came to the officer’s academy? When did she last make a decision as spontaneous as that kiss? The honesty of the moment filled her and she found herself staring up at the sky. 

She stood there looking upwards for a few long minutes as Ignatz began taking down his easel and packing his paints. Clearly, her fellow Golden Deer decided that he could make no further progress on this particular piece today. As he finished his cleanup, she walked over to him. 

“Need an escort back?” Leonie asked. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and the young man relaxed instantly at her touch.

“If you’re done hunting, then yes. I’d greatly enjoy your company on the walk back. You… kind of scared off my usual conversation partner.” 

Leonie laughed again, softer this time. Ignatz strapped his easel to his back in a mirror of Leonie’s slung bow.

“Oh, so that’s what I am now? Your ‘conversation partner?’ Come on, Ignatz. You’re helping me skin these rabbits just for saying that.”

A gentle smile crossed Ignatz’s face as they began their walk back to the monastery. 

“I’ve never skinned a rabbit before… But if you’ll show me, I’ll give it a shot!” 

Ignatz’s enthusiasm charmed Leonie and she matched his smile. 

“That’s the spirit! You give me your best, Ignatz, and I’ll give you mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me so much trouble. Firstly, I felt guilty about my depiction of Sylvain in the last chapter. He deserves better than that and I did not do his character justice. Expect a redemption for him if I keep adding to this. Secondly, the inherent weirdness of the situation between Ignatz and Leonie proved difficult. How do I make Ignatz sound charming and sincere while not glossing over the grossness of him making naked drawings of Leonie without her permission? I felt boxed in and I hope the situation came across as natural and not exploitative. They’re just dumb teenagers with hormones flying all over the place. I had momentum and I needed to keep the Leonatz ship pointed towards the horizon, not poking holes in it this early. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading!


End file.
